I gaze in this mirror

I see what others see
I make my image different
So I don't have to fit in
I use this mirror as a key

I lock myself away
With these thoughts and emotions
I cover my heart and soul
Behind these clothes of black and grey

I stare at my image without a sound
I wish to be individual
But whilst I don't realise
My courage has not been found

We are all scraped in pain
We cover it up with a smile
We all say we think different
But in reality we are all the same

I gaze in this mirror
I see everyone
All thoughts and emotions
This feels too familiar

Freedom has far gone
You tell yourself
To keep calm
And carry on.
- Joe Georgiou

In the crowded glass market

I become the bull

Before the bull

I the man

Before the man

I the child

The child accidentally destructive

Treads on the unknowing in the glass of doubt

Doubting the man

Who himself is encased in that same doubt

The man wondering how to be the man himself

The adult that gets pushed from his teen years

To the years of a young adult

Currently the currency of work inspires to aspire

But the dilemma of a wage so minimum

The quiet noises he makes to not wake the lion

To venture past the lions

From the glass that he did not break

To that walk ahead

But that walk

Can get lonely

People seemingly there

But the morphed man eyes not tuned to reality

Doubtingly

What can it do for a man

The man

Whose trying to become a man

Just to walk through the consuming circle

Waiting for the red

Before the strife

Take his life

Run past the lions screaming

And in the glass market
I become the bull

I'm not afraid of growing old.
No, I fear not remembering and dying alone
I'm not afraid of the dark.  
No, I fear the empty silence and the unknown.

I'm not afraid of the end of life.
No, I fear I will leave nothing behind
I'm not afraid of death.  
No, I only fear dying with too much life left.

Falling for you is like
Falling to the bathroom floor
Foolish and clumsy I was
Slippery and painful it was
But I learned my lesson
And won't fall for you again

I just wanted to say that
poetry is like a breath of fresh air
after being enclosed far too long
in a room far too small

Granny's out drinking
Papas already in bed
And where am I?
Sitting here, sober
Thinking of someone
Halfway around the world
That I just recently met
That ill never forget
Even if I wanted to
There he would sit
In the back of mind
Impossible not to find